


Haircut

by itsonlyapapermoon



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: F/M, Haircuts, When do agents even have time for haircuts, Why boys should always knock before entering a girls room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7804423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsonlyapapermoon/pseuds/itsonlyapapermoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because going to the barber's was too much of a hassle for an agent at Lockwood & Co.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haircut

**Author's Note:**

> It's the last day of exams tomorrow but here I am writing Lockwood & Co. Fanfics instead of reviewing. Yay! Go me!
> 
> I got too excited with the thought of the Creeping Shadow's release close by. Ahhhhhh in fact that was all I was thinking about when formulating hypothesis and quantitative variables.

Lucy couldn't tell whether she had cut too much or too little of her hair. Left side, right side, it didn't really matter -- it looked like a hurricane passed through all the same.  
  
From where she stood, her mirror counterpart scrutinized directly facing the agent with a look of disapproval. Lucy had spent most of the morning hacking away at the mess of layers and bangs which resembled less and less like a proper haircut the more she trimmed.  
  
The agent-turned-self-hairdresser blew out a sigh, the critique framed in white rims mirrored her defeated expression.

"This isn't working out." She said to herself.  
  
It was the time of the year where Lucy's hair -- as uncontrollable as the girl herself -- would trespass below shoulder-length without her noticing. And all it took was one clump of hair smacking her face to get a nice big hug from a ghost in the middle of a fight. She'd rather go bald than let her hair become her cause of death.  
  
She tilted her head, running her fingers through the dark hair. "Maybe if I cut this end..." she trailed off, shakily grabbing a clump of hair and ever so slowly inching them in between the scissor blades...  
  
"You could just tie it," Lockwood commented, leaning against the bedroom's door frame, lips upturned in an amused smile.

"It'd be much easier."  
  
Being an agent required nerves of steel as they were constantly exposed to things that made grown adults jump in the middle of night. Lucy nearly mastered the art of concealing feelings -- especially any that concerned her current employer, as ghosts love to feed off heightened emotions. And as a veteran in her field of expertise, it usually took a lot more to spook Lucy Carlyle -- usually.  
  
The veteran agent caught herself from jumping at the split second. She stoped the hand holding the lock of hair from reaching for her rapier. What she couldn't help was the involuntary clenching of her fist as she would instinctively do when practicing keeping her cool.

And all it took was one violent _snip!_ the scissors barely missing her ear.

Bits of Lucy's dark and very much detached hair floated from her head to the bathroom tiles. All Lucy could do was stare at the fallen strands, pretending they were the girl in the mirror's and not hers. Not her's at all, nope.  
  
Lockwood tsked, "Oh what a pity. And here I wanted to see you with long hair, for once."  
  
Lucy refused to look up at her reflection. She didn't need to see it to picture it. One side definitely had the same hurricane uproot some trees and houses as it passed by. But no matter, it would grow back. It was just hair.  
  
"I'm real sorry, Luce. But it will grow back, right?" Lockwood assured the very still and very quiet girl. He began inching slowly away from the door as Lucy stepped out picking up her newly polished rapier from the corner.  
  
Lucy half-laughed. One look of blazing anger shot new kinds of chills and terror through Lockwood's body. "Right, it's just hair."  
  
"Right," Lockwood tried keeping his voice steady, already making for his escape. "It's just hair anyway!" The boy screamed as he tore down the stairs, Lucy taking the steps two at a time.  
  
George had just finished stacking the last chocolate chip waffle onto Lockwood's plate when he heard a crash and a bang following a loud, "Get back here, you coward!".  
  
"Must be that time of the year." George mused and plopped down in front of Lockwood's breakfast with exciement. The thunderous footsteps and foul curses shook the peaceful 35 Portland Row on a quiet Sunday morning.


End file.
